


I am the night, color me black

by Anonymous



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Death, Coming back from the dead-AU, Doubting your own sanity, Horror, I’m so sorry lix, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Major character death - Freeform, Mild Sexual Content, Other, Paranoia, Poor Lix, Psychological Horror, Relatively descriptive violence at the end, Smut and Horror, Supernatural Elements, Thriller, Violence, and not good....at all..., barely smut, binnie is skurry, blood and death, but its not gorey language wise, but it’s very much not human, but there is some Spicy content midway, consensual grinding, evil!changbin, idk what changbin is in this, it’s February but spoopy season never ends, just some bumping and grinding, past relationship- ChanLix, they dont even kiss, this is basically pure horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22550515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Felix thinks he’s going crazy.No—Felixknowshe’s going crazy. He’s completely lost his mind, at only the tender age of 19.Because Felix keeps seeing his boyfriend in the shadowy corners of his apartment. Which, at a glance, doesn’t seem terribly disturbing. Until, you find out that Felix’s boyfrienddied. A year and a half ago.So why does Felix keep seeing Changbin?
Relationships: Lee Felix & Seo Changbin, Lee Felix/Seo Changbin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 57
Collections: Anonymous





	I am the night, color me black

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: You can call me monster

Felix thinks he’s going crazy. 

No—Felix  _ knows  _ he’s going crazy. He’s completely lost his mind, at only the tender age of 19. 

Because Felix keeps seeing his boyfriend in the shadowy corners of his apartment. Which, at a glance, doesn’t seem terribly disturbing. Until, you find out that Felix’s boyfriend  _ died.  _ A year and a half ago.

He’s currently reduced to a pile of ashes, interred in an intricately carved urn on Felix’s bookshelf. He’s dead. Gone. Nothing more than a heap of charred dust. 

So why does Felix keep seeing Changbin? 

And not just seeing him in dreams, not just pretending to see him when an iron fist of grief knocks his brain into next week.  _ Seeing  _ him. Like he’s right  _ there.  _ Like he’s made of flesh and bone.

Like two nights ago, when Felix jolted awake—randomly—in the middle of the night, and he  _ swears  _ he saw Changbin standing at the foot of his bed. Even in the pitch darkness of his room, he  _ saw  _ him. Planes of ivory skin and pink lips that simply shouldn’t  _ be.  _ He saw his face, saw that wide nose of his that Felix used to boop and leave loving smooches on, saw his full cheeks and tiny little lips that used to bloom into a loving grin at the sight of Felix. He saw Changbin, just standing in his room. Watching him. Like he was  _ there.  _

Like he was alive. 

But Changbin isn’t alive. He  _ isn’t.  _ Felix is sure of this—he still reconfirms his suspicions by sneaking glances at the black and gold urn collecting a fine layer of dust on the shelf. Seo Changbin has ceased to exist, and yet in steps Felix Lee; fear chewing up every bone in his body because he continually sees Changbin traipsing around his apartment. 

Ever since that dreadful night, Felix has taken to sleeping with the lights on. Like a fucking  _ child,  _ he keeps his apartment alight with perpetual luminance, for fear of what skirts about in the pockets of darkness. His upped electric bills can go to hell, in favor of the fleeting security the ever present light provides. 

But the fear is verging on suffocating. He can barely sleep, he can barely eat and function and _breath_ when in his apartment. He wishes he could do something as simple as pack up and _leave,_ escape the prison he calls home and find somewhere new. But the unshakable combination of his signed lease and lack of sufficient funds keeps him trapped in that living hell. He’s so tired. So tired and so scared, all the time. His eyes sting from exhaustion, his muscles ache from being constantly pulled taut in attention. He just wishes it could all _end._

Felix is becoming paranoid. His eyes dart around his apartment, wide and shimmering with a permanent layer of fear. He can  _ feel  _ eyes on him, watching his every goddamn move. Peering at him, examining his every breath. If the plaster walls creak, if the ancient radiator by the wall sputters or hisses, Felix jumps in terror. His heart quickens to a rapid clip, his skin prickles with icy chills. 

He can barely  _ live.  _ He’s always looking over his shoulder, always on edge and  _ hunted.  _ He thought he saw a figure staring at him when he opened his front door; it was just the uncanny form of his floor lamp greeting him. He swears he saw two black, shining eyes glaring at him out of the corner of his vision; he whipped his head around, only to find the culprit to be pinpricks of dim light bouncing off the polished lenses of his sunglasses. 

He’s terrified. Because  _ something  _ is watching him. Something paced back and forth, back and forth outside his bedroom door last week. He could see the shadow disturb the otherwise spotless bar of soft light between the door and the floor. It was there. And all Felix could do was pull the covers over his head and try not to sob; for fear of alerting whatever lurks outside the oak to his existence. Something whispers his name at ungodly hours of the night, somehow sounding mere inches from his ear and at the same time  _ miles  _ away. He hears it, thrumming in the air. 

Something stands in the inky recesses of his living room while he’s studying, a smudge of vaguely twitching darkness. Darker than the shadows. Darker than the night, it appears as a humanoid black hole that greedily snatches up any and all light skirting about its grasp. 

He saw. He  _ sees  _ it. 

He swears he sees it right now. 

Felix was trying to commit some important psychology facts to memory, before his midterm next week. Maybe he should talk to his professor about what’s been happening to him. Maybe he should go to a psychologist; he fears there’s no hope for him if he does. He’s crazy. He’s seeing his dead boyfriend leering at him from the shadows.  _ Telling  _ that to someone? Sounds like a one way ticket to being locked up in an insane asylum, Felix thinks. 

He was trying to work, cuddled up on the sofa, when he heard  _ it.  _

“Felix,” a whisper. A mumble. Like the wind snaking through the needles of a pine, shifting the weight of branches and making archaic wood groan.

Felix shot up, his eyes bugging out of his head and his heart beginning to race. He felt the muscle thrash against his ribs, manic and deranged and on the cusp of cracking thin bones in two. His stomach rolled with nausea, his shoulders jumped up to his ears as waves of terror pulsated through each and every atom of his being. He’s heard that before, the shift in the air that somehow sounds exactly like his name. 

But this time it’s  _ different.  _ It sounded clearer; unmistakable. It sounded closer; in the room with him. Mere  _ feet  _ away from him. 

“H-hello?” Felix whimpered, pulling his knees up to his chest and shrinking in on himself. He began to shake, his strands of golden blonde hair vibrating with the violent tremors. White-hot fear coursed through his veins, the kind you can never even attempt to escape, because it already wormed its way into the center of your brain like a hungry termite through wood. 

“Felix, baby.” 

Tears rushed onto Felix’s horrified eyes. His heart temporarily ceased beating, before restarting its wild pounding in his chest. Each rasping breath feels like individual poisoned barbs puncturing his lungs, and it burns. Everything burns, as if he’d been doused in gasoline and someone threw a match. Some _ thing.  _

He knows that voice. He’s heard that voice for three years of his life. He hasn’t heard that voice in a year and a half. 

“Changbin?” Felix doesn’t recall the feeling of his lips moving. They acted on their own accord, bypassing his short circuiting brain and purging the name from his churning stomach. 

Motion. A zip of abysmal black in the junction between the far wall and the floor. The only corner of his living room still bathed in sufficient shadow. From the very blackness itself, out stepped a figure. A strike of pale white and black that appeared to materialize from the very lack of light itself. He is the shadows. He bleeds black. 

“C-Changbin?!” Felix cried, pushing himself flush against the arm of the sofa in a feeble attempt to put distance between him and... _ that.  _ Him. 

Changbin. 

Changbin is now standing in Felix’s living room. He’s wearing what he wore on the day he died, on the worst day of Felix’s life. The day he was ripped from him. Felix began to cry. He sobbed snotty, heady breaths that sound split right down the middle with a cleaver. He wants to scream, but his throat is stopped up with incoming sobs. Changbin’s skin is so pale Felix wouldn’t be surprised if it had been replaced with a swath of glass. His features are soft and he looks nothing short of frozen in time; he’s still so beautiful. So perfect. 

Except for his eyes. Changbin’s eyes—which were once a honeyed chestnut—are black. Pure black. Inhumanely black. Black like a doll’s eyes, black like a shark’s eyes. 

He has the eyes of a predator, of something at the tippy top of the food chain. And he’s gazing at the trembling form of Felix like he’s a slab of fresh meat. 

He’s lost his mind. Changbin  _ can’t  _ be here, he just  _ can’t.  _ He’s seeing things, he’s hallucinating, he’s  _ crazy.  _ Changbin’s eyes can’t be black and his lips can’t be smiling like a starving wolf at Felix. He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s  _ dead— _

“Hi baby,” Changbin mused, but his voice sounds  _ different.  _ Fundamentally different, in the kind of implacable way you can’t put into something as simple as  _ words.  _ It sounds darker. Colder, with a septic sterility to it. His voice matches the two little voids in his head. 

“I missed you.” Said Changbin, and he took a step out of the darkness. A step towards Felix. He walked right past the urn that contains his very own scraps of ashen memory. 

“N-no! Get away, you aren’t Binnie!” Felix cried, and his vision is beginning to blur from a mixture of terror and the endless stream of tears. He’s trapped, between the arm of the sofa and that  _ thing  _ posing as Changbin. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to run. He’s cornered, by a wolf in love’s clothing. 

“It’s me, Lixie Lix.” Drawled Changbin, and his chapped lips pulled into a smile. It’s the sickeningly sweet kind of smile, the kind that ends up being the last thing you see before a knife is plunged into your back. Changbin took another step closer, until he’s now standing mere inches from the plush sofa cushions. 

_ Lixie Lix;  _ the nickname reverberated through Felix’s ears like a sonic boom. It knocked around his brain like a mace, like a weapon designed to destroy. That was Changbin’s pet name for him, what he called Felix every  _ day.  _ Only Changbin would know something like  _ that.  _ It’s him; it’s really Changbin, he came  _ back.  _

And now rather than from dread and disbelief, Felix’s tears are now from despair and longing. He missed Changbin so much. And now he’s  _ here.  _ He should be happy—he should  _ revel  _ in this moment. 

Changbin stalked closer and closer, until he crept onto the sofa with Felix himself. Felix should have ran. He should have ducked under Changin and  _ fled,  _ gone somewhere,  _ anywhere  _ but here. He didn’t. He stayed firmly in place, back pressed against the thick arm of the sofa, eyes wide and tearful and  _ petrified.  _ He just let it  _ all happen.  _

Changbin placed two gentle hands on Felix’s thighs, and pushed them down and open with tender movement. Felix felt a scream bubble up in his chest. 

Changbin slung his own muscular legs forward, crawling closer to straddle Felix’s newly exposed lap. All Felix could do is  _ stare.  _ Stare at the love of his life, who was dead and gone but is now  _ here  _ in his arms. Felix suddenly doesn’t care that Changbin’s eyes are pitch black. He doesn’t care that his skin is unnaturally pale and that his body seeped from the very shadows that haunt his nightmares. 

All he cares about is the  _ feeling  _ of Changbin pressing his body against his. 

“I missed you, Binnie. So much.” Felix mumbled, and the world is spinning like a top. He can’t tell up from down or left from right, all he comprehends is Changbin, and his grounding weight draped across his thighs. 

Changbin’s smile widened until Felix could see his teeth. He swears he saw fangs, but one wet-blink later they were gone. If they even existed to begin with. 

“Will you be a good boy for me, Lixie Lix?” Changbin chirped, his voice saccharine and deadly sweet. Like a lullaby, sung to you before you asphyxiate. 

Felix nodded, frantically. Desperately. He knows what the question precedes, and his mouth began to water. “O-of course, I’ll always be good for you, Binnie.” He wants to make Changbin proud. He wants to be the  _ best  _ boy he can, for his love. 

Changbin brought a hand up to caress Felix’s cheek, but he felt the frigid gnaw of icicles cradle his skin. His tears collided with Changbin’s hand, collecting in a puddle in the curve between his thumb and his pointer finger. 

“Good boy, Lix.” Changbin punctuated the praise with a grind of his hips against Felix’s, and all Felix could do was gasp. His vision danced with splotches of blinding white, as his nerves ignited with fire. All he could perceive is the  _ feeling,  _ the sensation of Changbin rolling forward to meet his own shallow thrusts. He can  _ feel  _ Changbin, feel his flesh and his bones. Feel something else, something stiff under the denim grain of the jeans Changbin wore the night he died. As if he’d never left. 

And just like that, Felix was hypnotized. His dead boyfriend is grinding on him, but he doesn't give a shit. His fear was immediately replaced with longing and familiarity and arousal. So many conflicting emotions are grappling for dominance in his brain that it all just canceled out into nothingness. 

“I love you,” Felix whimpered, through a lewd moan as Changbin unleashed a particularly violent buck of his hips. His eyes rolled back in his head, his cheeks flushed a deep shade of scarlet. What once was a nightmare has become a dream, and Felix never wants to wake up. 

“I love you too, Lixie. I’m sorry for leaving you.” Said Changbin, each word still drenched in a thick layer of honey. Felix began to sob, pitiful bouts of quivering sorrow. Why did he have to leave? Why did he leave him? He’s feeling it  _ all,  _ pleasure and pain and the entirety of known emotional spectrum between his ears, and it’s bordering on agonizing. 

“Do you want to come home with me?” Changbin softly asked a despondent Felix, stroking a thumb over the fevered and freckled cheeks of his lover. That took Felix aback; that made his hiccups and wails skid to a halt. 

Felix  _ is  _ home. He doesn’t know what Changbin could possibly mean, but he’s much too blinded by the churning brew of ravenous want and unadulterated terror sloshing about in his stomach. He wants to go home with Changbin. 

“Don’t you want to be with me forever, Felix?” Changbin’s voice sounds like a hymn in his ears, like something sacred. Like something holy. He feigned the urge to get down on his knees and  _ pray.  _

And Felix does; he wants to be with him. Forever. 

Changbin’s hips temporarily stopped the rhythmic rolling that almost made Felix fall right over the proverbial edge, and Felix couldn’t help whining at the lack of movement. His own little waist, dwarfed by Changbin’s muscular size, stuttered up in a pitiful attempt to bridge the gap to white-hot release. He’s so in love, so blinded by it that he ignored the feral, wolffish set to Changbin’s angular jaw. 

He’s hungry. And so is Felix—for two  _ very  _ different things. 

“Take me home, Binnie.” Felix whispered, and like the forceful twist of a faucet knob, his tears instantly petered out. They were left as no more than a languid drip, from his reddened eyes and onto the skin of Changbin’s hand. He gazed up into Changbin’s pure black eyes, and his heart calmed. He saw himself reflected in those onyx pools, two black-hole mirrors parroting the sight of Changbin still lovingly cradling his cheek. He nuzzled his cheek into Changbin’s gentle caress of his face, and he’s suddenly at peace. With everything. Changbin is deadly cold but Felix feels so, so warm. Like he’s on fire. Like he’s been thrown into a furnace.

So warm. He never wants it to end. 

Changbin’s lips quirked up into a small, demure smile. It didn’t reach his obsidian eyes. 

“Good boy, Lixie Lix. We can be together now. Forever.” Changbin moved his hand, until the digits splayed right above Felix’s heart. Each pound throbbed from his chest and into Changbin’s palm, as if he’s trying to harness the beats as a source of power. 

Felix smiled up at Changbin, through eyes alight with stars and brilliance and  _ love.  _ He’s happy, he’s so happy he could scream. Eternal sleep is nipping at Felix’s crumbling brain, yipping and biting and trying to wake him  _ up.  _ He ignored it, in favor of getting lost in the endless black of Changbin’s eyes.

Felix’s heart beat with a new source of vigor, with newfound joy and vitality. He loves Changbin so much. 

His heart beat and beat and beat. Steadily, evenly. Until Changbin drove his hand into his chest, and ripped it clean out. Changbin may bleed liquid shadow, but Felix’s body is now enrobed in crimson. 

Changbin’s smile never faltered. Despite the beads of blood sliding down his wrist. Despite the gaping cavity torn into Felix’s chest, as if mimicking the cavernous abysses that are Changbin’s eyes. 

They can be together now.

Forever. 


End file.
